


for the world is hollow (but i have touched the sky)

by eavis



Series: A Miraculous World [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: BAMF Loki, Backstory, Friendship, Gen, Gen Fic, de-aged loki, hulk needs a hug too, mythical baddie, random people can be nice sometimes, sortof character study, spoilers for WW Hulk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eavis/pseuds/eavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Bruce gets hit with this science ray that gives him telepathy abilities, right, but he doesn't really have very long to enjoy it before they have to assemble and then even though the abilities wear off during the battle, after it's over he and the other Avengers have yet more to deal with and oh yeah also Loki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for the world is hollow (but i have touched the sky)

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for World War Hulk and sort of spoilers for Wolverine and the X-Men. Title, with a slight alteration, is from the Star Trek episode. Apologies in advance for the gratuitous references.

Bruce and Tony were in the workshop.  It was Tony’s workshop, technically, but Bruce found himself working there more often than in the spacious lab on one of the R&D floors.

Tony was bent over his workbench, attention split between whatever he was building - characteristically, the whatever-it-was featured an actual shiny red button that seemed to scream ‘Push Me’ – and a scrolling screen of numbers, letters, and – Bruce squinted – were those _runes_? Based on the intensity of Tony’s focus and the volume of the muttered notes to JARVIS, Bruce felt a bit hesitant about interrupting him for lunch.

Even though the notice Bruce, Pepper, and JARVIS had set up – it’s-been-eleven-hours-since-Tony-ate-notice – was flashing on the screen in front of both of them.

He was saved from making a decision by an air vent bursting open and a wild Hawkeye dropping out, hotly pursued by a de-aged Loki wielding a high-powered nerf gun.

Clint moved to hide behind Bruce – a fairly effective shield, since Bruce had been unanimously declared off limits in the Prank Wars – and Loki began stalking forward with the grace of a hunting lioness. Not, Bruce thought, like a cub that’s not quite sure of all his limbs, as might be expected of an eight year old. He made a mental note to ask Thor later how long this second childhood was supposed to last, and stepped forward. “Clint, Loki, you know you’re not supposed to play in the labs. It’s too dangerous.”

Clint and Loki exchanged an eyeroll and a sigh, and the archer had just opened his mouth to say something (probably a lie; he and Loki traded off being bad influences on each other)  when Tony yelled, “Eureka!” and threw his hands out in triumph. This had the unfortunate effect of startling Loki, who still had a disturbing tendency to flinch when someone moved too fast, and his finger jerked on the trigger of the nerf gun.

Bruce watched in resignation as the bullet, almost in slow motion, ricocheted off various surfaces and, like one of the ludicrously elaborate traps in the psychedelic children’s show Loki had fallen in love with, the bullet landed with a definitive _thwock_ on the invitingly red button on Tony’s device. Which was, of course, aimed straight at Bruce. He braced himself, mentally and physically, for whatever the thing did, but aside from a shiny burst of something shiny that landed all over Bruce’s hair and shoulders, nothing happened.

Tony looked nervous. Bruce wondered what exactly the device did and if he was about to spontaneously combust or just turn into a Stuart Little version of the Hulk.

“Er.” Tony said.

Bruce sighed.

“Do you.” Tony glanced from his screen back to Bruce. “Are you feeling any different?”

“Like an idiot, maybe.” Clint reached out a hand to pick a piece of the shiny whatever off of Bruce’s shoulder. “Tony, did you make a glitter gun?”

Bruce looked at Tony.

“Er.” Tony said again, and Bruce saw his face turn a curious mixture of red and sickly yellow. He blinked and realized that the colors were not suffusing Tony’s face, but floating in a nebulous sort of cloud around it. He blinked again and a cool, cultured voice echoed in his head, informing him that the colors he was seeing were indicative of the emotions embarrassment and anxiety. He calmly built an imaginary wall in his head, opened a door in the wall, mentally shoved the voice through the door, and slammed it shut before saying aloud, “It’s not a glitter gun, although I would like to know why a telepathic enabler shoots glitter.”

The clouds around Tony shift to include a brighter burst of yellow (pride, Bruce identifies without any help from intrusive voices), though the unease stays. “It worked, then? I mean, of course it worked, I made it, but how well does it work? Are you actually reading minds or are you just getting vague impressions? How far away does it work? Can you hear what Steve’s thinking right now? Wait, no don’t tell me what he’s thinking ew it would probably make me sick; I’m allergic to kittens and puppies and happy trees. What about the fourth dimension? Can you read Hitler’s mind? Hey, what if –“

Clint glanced at Bruce, noted the weary expression, and shot Tony between the eyes with a nerf dart.

“Tony.” Bruce took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Explain.” He paused a second, added: “Please.”

On a two-year-old, the expression on Tony’s face would have been a pout, but he complied, motioning them all over to the worn couch in one corner of the workshop (the one where Tony or Bruce and occasionally Steve crash when he’s given up for the moment on bullying them into actually going to bed). “Okay, I’m going to make this as simple as I can for bird-brain here –“

Clint’s smile is equal parts beatific and evil and manages to convey that once they’re all out of the workshop the prank war just went to Defcon Four.

“Okay, super short version? I’ve been working on a telepathy implant for Wolverine. Ever since everything went down with the X-Men last year, with Professor X in a coma and Jean Grey MIA and they had to rely on Emma Frost for telepathic help, Logan wanted something a little more dependable and less likely to switch sides as a back-up. It’s not designed to be anywhere close to real telepathy, but it should work well enough to work Cerebro, if I’ve gotten everything right. I have no idea what the actual strength is.” Tony looked hopefully at Bruce, who ignored him.

“So you are not as powerful as the professor?” Loki looked perfectly calm, but Bruce, glancing at him, observed the same sickly yellow haze around Loki that had been around Tony earlier. Loki’s head turned and their eyes met. There was a flash of carefully hidden panic (which translated to a burst of yellow-orange mingling with the yellow) before a sheet of cold blue dropped over the yellow.

Bruce remembered Loki’s sudden illness when Professor Xavier had come to visit a couple nights ago, and what Thor had told them of Heimdall’s all seeing eye, coupled with some of the Norse myths he’d read and Loki’s instant dislike of the Betazoid on Star Trek, and looked away from the protective ice sheet, even as he answered, “Nowhere close. If I’m looking directly at someone I get an impression of their emotions, but I haven’t actually ‘read’ anyone’s mind like most telepaths can. So that a no, Tony. I can’t read Hitler’s mind and change the outcome of a past event. I’m pretty sure WW2 is a fixed point, anyway.”

The inevitable argument was cut off by Steve’s head coming around the door. “Hey, guys. My alarm for making you guys eat something just went off, and it’s the normal time for lunch, so I came to tell you I’m making food and I will forcibly drag you to it if I need to. Hi Clint, Loki. You two want lunch?”

“Why do they get a special invitation?” Tony demanded.

“Maybe because we don’t get distracted when someone waves something shiny in front of us and whispers ‘science!’.” Clint smiled sweetly at the twin glares directed his way. “Steve, I would love some food.”

“Me too!” Loki ran to Steve, who swung easily to sit on his shoulders without waiting for the boy to ask.

They had learned, over the past months, that Loki would only very rarely initiate contact, although he responded with ready enthusiasm once it was offered. When Coulson had first pointed this out, about four months after Thor and Loki had come, Thor had grown very grave. “I fear the Son of Coul is correct. It was not always so; when we were young together he was affectionate with all he encountered, but as we grew and began training in arms, I became…more distant toward him than formerly. I was encouraged in this by my father and instructers, who sought to keep me from missish behaviour. This is no excuse for my actions, but merely a statement of fact. Loki has ever been sensitive to the others’ state of mind, and once he discerned his embraces were no longer so welcome and accepted as once they had been, he began to pull away, and though he was quick to respond when affection was shown him, he no longer sought it out or initiated the touch.”

Clint had gotten up and disappeared into the ventilation.

Bruce, who had read his teammates’ files, had felt a sudden savage desire to hunt down Barney Barton, Howard Stark, and the entire Red Room and introduce them to the Hulk.

“Bruce? You coming?” Steve’s voice pulled him back to the present, and Bruce tamped down the surge of simmering rage the memory wakened and smiled at Steve. “Yeah, absolutely.” Bruce moved toward the door fast; he’d have to tell the rest of the team about his new ability, but if they were all eating together then Tony couldn’t keep poking and asking questions about it. Even if it was Tony, he’d had enough of that for two lifetimes. (Of course, that wasn’t to say Tony wouldn’t try, but Steve was a great believer in topics of general interest, and was quick to shut down any conversations that weren’t.)

Steve looked surprised, but a burst of green and bright yellow assured Bruce it was a welcome surprise. “Great! Clint? Tony?”

Tony nodded, curiosity and interest telegraphing so strongly Bruce closed his eyes and sighed resignedly.

Clint grabbed the nerf guns and headed for the door, sticking his head back in to say: “So can the Hulk read minds too?”

Bruce noticed the flash of Clint’s mischievousness a second too late; Tony’s interest levels had just spiked to danger levels. He closed his eyes, once hand moved to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Tony, no.”

Since the device had been a prototype, there was no way to know for sure how long it was going to affect Bruce. Tony seemed sure it would wear off within a week or so. (Bruce had told him that was an inexact estimate and unworthy of a scientist, to which Tony had responded that he was a genius mechanic and didn’t have to have exact estimates and wasn’t that an oxymoron anyway.)

Cap, after they explained the meaning of Clint’s parting shot, sighed and said, “Well, just pray there aren’t any alien attacks in the next week, I guess. I’d rather not find out what Hulk makes of telepathy, if it’s all the same to you,” and then proceeded to scold Clint and Loki for fooling around in the workshop. Bruce watched Clint, because yes, it was cheating, but Clint switched to ‘defiant, sulky teenager’ made so fast, and he was fascinated by the way Clint is actually emoting shame, a trace of mischief, still, but most of all, overwhelming, crushing _fear_. Bruce’s brows came together sharply. Steve telling somebody off happened fairly routinely, usually when one or the other of them did a more than usually foolhardy stunt, but of all of them, Clint (with Tony a close second) seemed to care about the scoldings the least. What was he so afraid of?

Intrigued now, Bruce narrowed his eyes at the haze around Clint and pushed deeper. The next instant he physically recoiled as waves of _this is it you messed up again got someone hurt no one wants you you hold everyone back even if they let you stay all you do is mess up you’re such a screw up how could you ever think_ – Bruce lowered his eyes to the tabletop, breathing deeply. He was glad no one else in the room was telepathic, because even if Clint hadn’t seemed to notice his intrusion, Bruce was suddenly, viciously ashamed of himself for prying where he had no right to go looking. He cut another bite of food, neatly, carefully, and carried it to his mouth. Not being able to avoid surface emotions was one thing, but actively trying to read someone’s thoughts? That made _him_ the real monster, not Hulk. Making a mental note to explain and apologize to Clint later, he went back to studying his teammates – specifically, their individual auras.

Steve’s held steadily purple – loyalty – even as streaks of orange and dark blue shot through it. Worry and desperation. Tony’s was perpetually shifting – Bruce could almost see the numbers that were running through his head – but the most steady were yellow (pride or pleasure) and gray with purple and dark blue shot through it. Desperate loyalty and fear. He drew in a sharper breath than he intended and wished he didn’t know why all of them were so afraid. He was, abruptly, very glad that Natasha and Thor were out; he had a feeling any emotion from Thor would knock him flat on his back (Thor emoted plenty without being a telepath) and he and Natasha had an uneasy history that wouldn’t be helped by an invasion of privacy, no matter how inadvertent. And, as Tony liked to say, any psychiatrist would have a field day diagnosing all of them. It wasn’t exactly a secret that they all had abandonment issues, and there wasn’t a quick fix for that.

Steve had moved on from scolding outright to more ‘let’s just be thankful it wasn’t worse’ and his expression was the one Coulson said he wanted to bottle and force-feed to villains to change their alignment to good.

Clint had lost the defiant part of his defiant, sulky teen act and now looked half-ashamed of himself (Bruce brutally kept himself from looking farther) and Loki was sniffling. Steve softened immediately and held out his arms. “Come here. It’s okay, Loki, I’m not mad. Just more careful, okay? You and Clint both?”

Loki nodded, squirming a little to get comfortable between Steve and the table’s edge before settling back against his chest sending a quick smirk at no one in particular.

Steve, blissfully unaware he’d been played, pulled Loki’s plate over in front of them. “Finish up, kiddo. We might still have time to go to the park before it starts raining.”

Bruce smiled at the alacrity with which Loki began to eat, and turned back to his own food, only to pause, blinking, at the longing plain for him to see on both Tony and Clint’s faces. He followed their gaze to Steve and frowned in a split-second of _what on earth_ before he realized that their focus was more on Loki as he chattered on about feeding the pigeons in the park. He felt a quick surge of longing himself – the picture Steve and Loki made was undeniably domestic, and absolutely none of them had ever had a relationship like that with their own fathers. He realized, with abrupt certainty, that all of them would give a lot to be in Loki’s place – not from any kind of romantic desire, but just because none of them had ever known the (supposedly) innate safety of a dad’s hug.

Bruce had to look away, reaching for his mug and swallow a lump down with a drink of tea. When he looked back up, Loki was watching him, his eyes wide in his small face. The ice that had been there earlier was gone and Bruce could sense contentment and satisfaction, but underlying it was a nervous longing, very like what had been emanating from Clint and Tony earlier.

Tony shoved his plate away and got up, breaking Bruce’s concentration. Steve frowned. “Tony.”

“You don’t get a star on the chore wheel unless you take care of your dishes,” Clint sing-songed, and Tony looked like he wanted to say a lot of unprintable things about what exactly Clint could do with his dishes, but under Steve’s frown and mini-Loki’s limpid stare, he meekly rinsed his dishes and put them into the dishwasher.

“Uncle Steve, are you going to do another training session today?” Loki took a last mouthful and pushed his own plate away.

“Maybe,” Steve answered, looking inquisitively at Bruce. “You up for it, Doctor Banner?”

He smiled apologetically. “I’d prefer not to, if you don’t mind.”

Steve grinned, brightly. “All right, Bartleby. I’ll let you out of it, but Tony, Clint, I think we should go through a few maneuvers, and once Thor and Natasha get back, they’d better come too.”

“But Bruce and I were going to do some more experiments!”

“You need this more than any of us, Tony. Last week, the giant squid? You kept blocking my sightlines!”

“That was not my fault! It was a salt-water squid – there’s no way it could have been living in Central Park Lake.”

“Honey, I’m home.”

Bruce turned to see Natasha striding in, six-inch Gucci heels dangling from one hand as the other reached out to ruffle Loki’s hair. “Tony, we’ve been all through this before. It’s like the squid in Harry Potter – magic.”

“I refuse to accept that as an admissible diagnosis – and don’t think I didn’t see that! Steve, Natasha signed something mean about me!”

“Okay, kids, calm down,” Steve was amused, even as he traded Long-Suffering Look No. 7 – ‘Tony’s being a stubborn idiot again’ with Bruce, “Tony, you really shouldn’t –“

_“Excuse me, Captain. Agent Coulson requests that you Assemble. There seems to be some sort of worm turning people to stone just south of Indianapolis.”_

Steve sighed. “Sorry, Bruce. Looks like we might have to find out if Hulk reads minds after all.

He couldn’t, it turned out. In fact, the transformation wiped the effects from his mind completely, but with everything else that happened, he forgot about it entirely.

Even though Thor showed up when they were half-way to Indiana, they had no way to kill the giant worms. Because yeah, there were about eight of them, and they seemed to be made out of some kind of impenetrable, unsmashable stone – must be durable resin, Tony joked over the team comm., just before he fell suddenly, horribly silent. The suit had begun to plummet, and Bruce felt a surge of gut-wrenching fear before JARVIS came over the comm., an undercurrent of concern clear even through the mechanical tones of the suit. “ _Sir appears to be unconscious. It is strongly recommended that you do not look these worms in the eye, as that seems to trigger either unconsciousness or a complete atrophied state.”_

“Got it,” Steve responded, “can you give us eyes in the air?”

There was an infinitesimal pause; an eternity for the AI, before he responded, “Of course, Captain. I will of course alert you when Sir awakens.”

Steve turned to Bruce. “You ready? Time to suit up.”

So Bruce kinda missed the rest of the fight. He had brief impressions of the Hulk being even more upset because the worms wouldn’t smash, a feeling of intense satisfaction (accompanied by a flash of green and gold), a dazzle of light and then smashing.

The story the others told him, after he woke up and pulled on some pants, was as follows (plus many varied and sundry comments from Tony).

Nothing they tried had any effect on the worm things, and people were either dropping or freezing to stone all over the place. Cap had put Hulk and Thor on corralling the things out of town and into the cornfields surrounding the town 2 miles out in every direction.

Hawkeye and Widow focused on getting civilians to safety, with JARVIS warning them when they were headed toward one of the worm things.

While helping a group of frightened cheerleaders past three or four burning cars (Tony’s fault; collateral damage before they found out blowing the worm-things up didn’t work), Clint turned to help the littlest girl over a blazing fender. He glanced up to check the enemy’s position and collapsed without a sound.

“Don’t look back!” Natasha doubled back, keeping her eyes down, checked to make sure he was only unconscious, and hoisted him over a shoulder. “Keep going – get off the streets, don’t look behind you, go!” She touched her ear-piece. “Captain, Hawkeye’s down. Same as Iron Man. There’s a group of civilians on South Main with a worm headed their way, can you get them out?”

There was a grunt and the sound of the shield hitting something, and the answer came back, “Copy that. Hulk seems to be immune, but Thor’s out cold, and there are still worms headed into town. Any ideas?”

“Blindfold?” Natasha dodged an unexpected spurt of green goo and watched it dissolve a storefront. “Steve, watch out. Some of them spit radioactive slime. At least 20 feet range. JARVIS, turn up the suit’s speakers as loud as they get and tell everyone to get inside and into rooms with no windows.”

There’s no response, but the next second Steve started violently as the too-familiar sound of air-raid sirens began to go off, accompanied by JARVIS’ cool, precise tones echoing from every speaker in the vicinity, repeating Natasha’s instructions.

Shaking himself, Steve ran to South Main, shield at the ready. The group of civilians turned out to be a couple and their daughter, huddled together behind a worn statue of a boy holding aloft a wolf cub in each hand – a man-made statue, thank God; Steve never wanted to see another stone statue again after this. “Sir? Ma’am? We need to get you undercover. There’s a worm headed this way, ETA two minutes.”

The girl looked up at him, eyes wide and excited behind the glasses and dark hair. “Do you know what they are, Captain?”

“Not yet. We haven’t really – duck!” He threw himself forward in time to catch the sudden onslaught of green slime on his shield before it landed on the girl. Her eyes were very wide and her mom looked like she was about to pass out. “Katie, let’s go,” her dad pulled at her arm, head turning –

“Don’t!” Steve and the girl (Katie) shouted at the same time.

“I think I know what they are!” One arm around her mom’s waist, Katie went on, words stumbling over one another in their haste to get out, like her feet over the ruined, cobbled street. “They’re Basilisks – some kind of them, anyway. They show up in pretty much every culture’s mythology – snakelike beasts that turn people to stone. They were hatched from a serpent’s egg and incubated by a cockerel – the cockatrice was the other way around, though –“

“How do we kill it?” Steve interrupted, steering them in a wide arc away from a group of new stone statues, all the faces fixed in a look of horror.

“A weasel, rooster’s crow, or mirrors,” Katie replied promptly. “Or the sword of Gryffindor, I guess, but good luck with that one.”

Steve ignored this last as irrelevant and said over the comm., “Widow, you copy that?”

There was no reply, and a second later JARVIS reported, “ _Agent Romanov is comatose, Captain, as are Thor, Sir, and Agent Barton. Mr. Hulk is immobile at present, underneath a coating of a green radioactive substance, although in full control of his mental facilities. All civilians not already petrified are under cover, and we have an incoming friendly._ ”

“Who-“ Steve started to ask, and then felt his jaw drop involuntarily at the figure that had just materialized in front of him. Beside him he heard the parents’ twin groans of despair almost drowned out by Katie’s shriek – whether of terror or delight he couldn’t tell.

“What are you _doing_ here?”

“A poor welcome to a sorely needed ally.” Loki was in full battle armor and his face held the same half-smirk and supercilious raised eyebrow Steve remembered from the battle of New York, and hardly bore any resemblance to the eight-year-old he’d left at home barely six hours ago.

“What have you done, Loki?”

The eyebrow hiked up another inch. “I? Nothing but what was necessary. I am still Loki. Uncle Steve.”

Steve felt a surge of resentment that this Loki would stand there and call him Uncle in that faintly derisive tone. Drawing in a deep breath and releasing it with a quick prayer that he wasn’t about to get everyone left in this town killed, he said, “Okay. You’re our Loki. What’s the game plan?”

Loki blinked, superior expression sliding away for a half-second, and Steve sent a quick ‘thank you’ heavenward at the sign that the boy he’d held just that morning was still there somewhere.

“They’re basilisks,” Katie piped up, helpfully. Loki spared her a long-suffering Odin-what-fools-these-mortals-be look, replying, “Yes, I _know_.” His gaze sharpened, taking in his surrounding. “These are farming lands. There must be – “ his face took on a faraway look for a second before a flock of roosters suddenly appeared in the street, crowing like mad.

Loki looked around. “Hmm. It appears that particular legend was false. Next on the list.” He snapped his fingers and a herd of weasels appeared, headed straight for the still-approaching basilisk. Three seconds later, there was a herd of stone weasels getting churned to powder beneath the weight of the basilisk.

Loki sighed. “Well, that leaves one more to try before things _really_ get exciting.” He flexed his fingers. “Everyone close your eyes,” he warned, and the next instant everything was bright, far too bright even through closed lids, and something began to scream – a horrible, high-pitched sound that went on for a full thirty seconds before cutting off abruptly.

Steve cracked an eyelid, found the light back to normal, and opened them all the way. The girl, beside him, whispered, “That was _so cool_.”

Loki lowered his hands, expression turning almost surprised before he dismissed the girl’s comment and his own skill with a wave of one pale hand.

“What did you do, exactly?” Steve asked, looking at the immobile, inert basilisk lying not ten feet away.

“Transformed all the surrounding surfaces to mirrors. Am I right?” It was the girl’s father this time, and Loki, mouth tight, nodded. The man stepped forward, hand outstretched. “Thank you for saving our lives, your highness.”

Steve felt his own eyebrows go up, and even Loki looked taken aback. “You…recognise me, then?”

“From last year when you tried to subjugate the earth? Yeah, you’re a little unforgettable. And I did get that right? Prince Loki?”

Loki nods, still looking wary. “But you’re – thanking me?”

“You did just call Captain America ‘Uncle Steve’,” his wife pointed out, “That’s a pretty good indication you’re not going to turn us into piles of cotton candy. And that’s not even counting the fact that you just saved our lives.” The just-under five foot, midwestern mom crossed her arms and nodded pointedly towards her husband’s still outstretched hand. “Now are you going to shake his hand or not?”

Looking even more gob smacked, Loki did so, and then bowed politely over the wife’s hand. Katie ignored the bow and went for the same warrior’s handshake Thor always used, saying enthusiastically, “I knew you weren’t as evil as everybody said. Darcy agreed with me; she said anyone who grew up with Thor had to have a pretty big complex of some kind or other and that your way of working it out wasn’t so bad from an Asgardian point of view.”

Loki raised his eyebrows, but only remarked, “Darcy was correct, I am afraid,” before turning to Steve, suddenly looking shy. “I am…sorry for what I said when I first arrived. I was preoccupied and worried, yes, but that was no excuse for my unkind words. I ask your pardon.”

“Granted,” Steve said immediately. They would work out exactly how Loki’s mom’s de-aging spell came to wear off at such a convenient time, but for right now – “The rest of the team’s unconscious. Is there anything you can do about that? And the statue people?”

Loki smiled and his helmet and armor melted away, leaving him in simple black slacks and a green shirt. “Lead on, Captain.”

They found Clint and Natasha lying next to each other in front of a shattered store window. Loki held a hand above each of their eyes, closed his own, and a minute later a thin trail of green seeped from behind their closed lids and into Loki’s hands. Their eyes opened a second later.

Clint flailed backwards, hand searching for a weapon, and Natasha levered herself between him and Loki, hands moving at a pace far beyond Steve’s level as she signed to the unexpected grown-up version. His response was somewhat slower, but whatever he said seemed to satisfy Natasha, for she accepted Loki’s hand up and pulled him into a hard hug, muttering something in Russian.

Clint and Loki exchanged equally gob smacked looks at Natasha’s unusual physical display of affection, and the archer (in response to Loki’s subsequent pleading look), rolled his eyes and huffed, “Even if I do forgive you, I’m not giving you a hug.” He flipped himself upright. “Cap, what’s with the civilians?”

The family was standing on the other side of the room, talking earnestly in low voices, and they only glanced up when Clint spoke.

“They helped with the basilisks,” Steve said, ignoring Clint’s muttered ‘that’s what we’re calling them now?’ “Loki, can you get Tony next? He can help locate people and bring them back to one place so you don’t have to move around.”

“ _I have located Mr. Hulk four streets over, but I am afraid he is too large to carry.”_

JARVIS, with Thor in his arms bridal style, clumped into the room.

Loki revived Thor the same way he had Clint and Natasha, submitted gracefully enough to an enormous hug and surprisingly quiet, “Brother, it is good to see you yourself again,” before squirming away, muttering about finding Hulk.

When they did find him, he was (unexpectedly) still Hulk, and he looked more pitiful than Steve had ever seen him, with the sticky goo all over his mouth and limbs.

Loki knelt beside him, waved his hand over the goo and vanished it, and the next second his eyes widened. He took a futile step back, but Hulk was already reaching for him, crushing him –

in an enormous hug. “Hulk like little god.”

“Ah –“ Loki looked more shocked than he had when Hulk had smashed him. “I like you too, Hulk.”

“Hulk remember Loki from smashing room. Little god smash good.”

Steve frowned. The smashing room? He knew Tony had made a Hulk play-room, but surely Bruce wouldn’t have – Loki’s eyes cut to Steve, looking panicked, and Steve sighed inwardly. Intentionally or not, Bruce had. He raised an eyebrow. “Loki, we’ll be talking about this later.”

Settling his clothes from the unexpected hug, Loki just nodded, not quite meeting his eyes.

“Okay, Tony first, and then let’s get busy on the civilians.”

Tony, not surprisingly, yelled. A lot. More surprisingly, most of it was either at Loki for putting himself in danger, or at JARVIS for letting him. Loki tried once or twice to interject something in his own defense, but Tony just raised his voice and kept scolding – like a fishmonger, Steve thought amusedly – so Loki gave in and just waited it out. When Tony started to wind down, Loki finally broke in with an acid, “if you’re _quite_ finished, I have a few dozen people to change from stone to flesh and blood.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, pulled Loki into a hug, thumped him on the back a couple times, and released him. “Yeah, we’re good, kiddo. Let’s go.”

Steve was busy, the next hour or so, calming and soothing frightened and confused civilians, and so he didn’t notice until too late that Loki was beginning to fade.

He looked up from trying to explain (for the fiftieth time in a row) that what had happened was in no way shape or form Loki’s fault and he had actually saved all their lives, and saw the topic of the explanation quietly keel over by the last confused person he’d just revived. Surging up, he yelled through his comm., “Coulson, I need those medical and damage control teams here _now_. All the civilians are back to normal and Loki just collapsed.”

“ETA three minutes, Captain. Recommend you get everyone to a secure location. And Steve? There’s some kind of interference and we can’t seem to get through HQ.”

Steve smiled grimly. Fury would be more than living up to his name right now at not being kept in the loop about Loki. Coulson’s tactic would buy them a few hours before they had to face the proverbial music. “Understood. Cap out.”

He reached Loki and dropped beside him, drawing the limp head into his lap and seeing in the still, pale face no trace of the arrogant would-be king he had met earlier in the day and every sign of the erstwhile princeling, sleeping but stubbornly refusing to sleep for fear of the night terrors that came nearly every time he closed his eyes. “Loki! Loki, can you hear me?”

A too-long pause before his eyelids fluttered and Steve smiled down in relief. “You had me worried for a second there, kiddo.”

Loki’s lower lip jutted out even as his eyes slid closed again. “’M not a _child_ , Uncle Steve.”

At the tired designation, Steve felt a smile take over his face, even as he felt a surge of panic. “Hey hey, no, Loki, stay awake, okay? Tell me what you need.”

The vivid green eyes came into view again, although it was obviously an effort. “Sugar. _Lots_ of sugar – preferably ice cream – and any other hearty foods. And sleep.” His eyes closed again.

“Can we help?”

Steve’s head came up sharply at the close proximity of the voice, automatically tensing, but he relaxed on recognizing the family from earlier.

“Is there anything we can do?” The wife prodded kindly. “Our house isn’t very far away – does he need food? A bed? I’m sure all of you could use a good meal.”

He was opening his mouth to decline when another unexpected voice chimed in, “Hey, I’m not about to turn down free food, and I’m not in any hurry to get back to New York either.”

Clint, Natasha close behind him, glanced from Loki to the SHIELD vehicles discharging agents and medical teams, his meaning clear.

“Right. Of course. We’d be delighted to come, thank you. Hawkeye, you want to tell the others? I’ve got Loki.” Steve scooped Loki up as gently as he could, ignoring the mumbled protestations and his own grumbling muscles, and nodded. “After you.”

On the way to their house, seven or so blocks away, Steve learned that their names were Mike, Laura, and Katie, they had two sons away at college and the children of some friends staying with them while the parents were out of town, Katie’s best friend (one of the kids) was “totally going to _flip_ when she sees Loki – she’s had a crush on him for _months_ ”, they were more than happy to feed all the Avengers, and Hulk was still Hulk.

He stayed Hulk, in fact, all throughout the meal (beef stew with homemade wheat bread), all five children using him and the other Avengers as jungle gyms, dessert (ice cream, of which Loki ate four gallons _by himself_ ) and finally went quietly to sleep and woke up as Bruce. (Fortunately with a blanket thrown over him.)

Once he was decently clothed and the others had brought him up to speed, he pulled himself upright and marched over to where Loki was sitting on the couch, patiently answering the two teen’s questions about magic.

“Loki.”

The two girls looked at him and then at Loki and muttered quick ‘thank yous’ before melting away. Loki blinked rapidly a couple times. “I don’t think I should have this conversation right now. I’m very weak still, and added stress might make me collapse again. You wouldn’t want that on your conscience, would you?”

“I already have plenty on my conscience. I want to talk about what should be on yours.”

Loki’s eyes widened and Bruce realized a second after he said it how his words might be taken. He sat down hurriedly. “Not – I don’t mean – I just – I’m talking about your playdates with the other guy.”

“Oh.” Loki’s expression went from penitent to mulish in the blink of an eye.

“He’s not _safe_ , Loki, especially not when you were little and didn’t have all your powers! You could have been seriously hurt! I don’t know how you did it without me or anyone else finding out, but –“

“Uncle Tony knew,” Loki said, face set in hard lines. “He helped me.”

Bruce clenched his teeth. “Tony? Would you mind coming over here for a second?”

Tony gently disentangled three sets of small fingers from his clothes and hair and wandered over, glass of apple juice (Tony, for all his faults, never drank around kids) in one hand. “What’s up, Bruce? You hungry? The big Guy had a couple dozen bowls of stew but I think there might be a bit left if you –“

“Tony, did you know about Loki being in the same room as the Hulk? That he was _playing with him_?”

Unconcernedly, Tony took a leisurely drink before answering. “Sure. We were sparring one day and Jolly Green mentioned he’d never met Loki, so after he promised not to smash him they went off to bake cookies or finger paint or whatever it was Pepper had planned.”

Bruce’s jaw dropped. “You let _Pepper_ in the same room as the Hulk?”

“Okay, first of all, I don’t ‘let’ Pepper do anything. Like our resident Trickster here, she does what she wants. And second, even if Hulk had wanted to hurt them (which he didn’t), I had JARVIS ready with enough sedatives to knock out a planet.”

“Hulk’s a person too,” Loki chimes in, his face stern, “and the more you’re afraid of him and trying to push away his friends and yours, the worse it’s going to be when he finally decides he’s had enough.” Loki glanced around, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘muffliato’, and then went on, “When I fell from the Bifrost, I saw worlds. Worlds of what is and what might have been and worlds where Tony Stark was Sorcerer Supreme and Steve Rogers died as a child and Clint Barton was part of Morgan le Fey’s honour guard. Where the Hulk was grey and ones where you and he were in different bodies. And I saw a world where you, Doctor Banner, pushed away any who might have aided you, throwing up your own fear and rage as a smokescreen for how desperately lonely both you and Hulk were, and the incidents and loss of control grew until matters came to a head and the leaders of that world, governed by their own fear, tricked the Hulk into saving the world and then repaid him by shooting him out into space and onto a world where he was made prisoner. And even though, entirely by his own strength and ingenuity, he became king of that world with a queen and a child with her, the craft that had seemed his deliverance exploded, killing all life on the planet he had come to love. And all this because people were afraid of Hulk. He is a person, Doctor Banner, with likes and dislikes and hopes and fears of his own, no matter how primitive they may seem to your mind.” Loki had drawn himself up and together and Bruce was forcibly reminded that Loki was a prince of Asgard, and looking at that cold, regal face turned to his, he felt a fission of fear that, for once, had nothing to do with the Hulk.

“We are your friends, Bruce,” Loki continued, more gently, “and Hulk’s too. Let us help. Don’t push us away.”

Bruce looked from Loki to Tony, who had been sitting almost preternaturally still during Loki’s speech, and back to Loki. “I don’t – he’s _dangerous_ ,” he said helplessly. Why couldn’t any of them _see_ that?

Tony snorted. “I’ve said it before, Bruce. If we were going to shoot people into space based on how dangerous they were, every single one of us would be alien bait. Even Agent. Heck, especially Agent. We’re not afraid of Jade Jaws and we’re not afraid of you. You both take care of the people you care about.”

“He’s – I – we’ve killed people!”

A shrug. “I was a weapons manufacturer. How many thousands of people were killed with weapons I built? People called me Merchant of Death. Loki and Thor have both tried to commit genocide. Clint and Natasha? They’re professional assassins. You know what that means? _They kill people._ Steve’s a soldier. It’s his job.”

“There is a saying. _Kaiidth_. What is, is. You cannot change the past. Now you must decide what you will do with the gifts you have been given.” Loki sat back against the cushions, waving a languid hand and everyone else’s voices came into focus again. “Now go away. I want to sleep.”

The two men obediently rose, Bruce’s head whirling trying to assimilate everything he’d just heard. Tony’s forehead was furrowed; he was obviously thinking about what Loki had said, too. He took a couple steps away, then whirled around, finger pointing accusingly at Loki. “I knew I’d heard that before – you totally stole that from Star Trek! That’s a Vulcan proverb! I always knew you were a secret nerd!”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “Really, Mister Stark. It is only logical to pursue interests that bring pleasure and the application of the proverb was likewise appropriate and logical. Now if you’d be so kind?”

Bruce shook his head, but he was smiling, and in the back of his mind, Hulk had his arms crossed and was saying pointedly, “See? _They_ don’t mind, so why should Puny Banner?” He thought of what Tony and Loki had just said and how Steve was careful to direct Hulk where he could do the most smashing with minimal property damage, how Natasha steadfastly worked with him during training when he knew she’d rather not, how Thor would only pick himself up, laughing after a shoulder punch from the Other Guy knocked him head-over-cape, and how Hawkeye would even perch on Hulk’s shoulder for rides and a good vantage point, and, reluctantly, admitted to himself that maybe, just maybe, they and Hulk had a point and he’d blown it all a little out of proportion. This whole friends thing. Maybe it was worth a shot.

**Author's Note:**

> So in case anyone is confused, the transformation from Bruce to Hulk did knock out the telepathy device. Also (and I might flesh this out in a later story but no promises) Loki had been mentally his right age for a while, but was using his restored powers to keep himself looking like an eight-year-old because he's super insecure and was afraid the Avengers would kick him out once he grew up again. That's why he was afraid of Bruce having telepathic powers because he thought he might be able to tell what he was doing. But when the Avengers were in trouble and he realised what they were up against and that they didn't know how to take care of it he dropped the glamour and teleported to the rescue.


End file.
